We Are Not Monsters
by jayknewc
Summary: Short drabbles about Clarke and Bellamy.
1. Chapter 1

The wind was harsh and even though Bellamy weighed heavily in muscle, he felt it blow right through his skin and had to take a step back to keep from losing his balance. The darkness had set in and the only noise that could be heard was the howl of the wind rolling through the trees and pounding against the tents. There were few times Bellamy was alone and could let the weight on his shoulders sink to the earth. He savored the wind pouring into his lungs and the softness of the ground underneath him. Earth was magic, and despite being emotionally and physically drained from a stressful day at camp, he wanted to stay awake.

He was almost by his tent when he saw Clarke. She was sitting against a tree playing with a knife, her blonde hair tied up in a ponytail so it would blow less in the wind. He studied her expression before approaching. Her eyes were empty, looking at nothing in particular, and was wearing two coats to protect her from the cold of the wind. He wondered for a moment why her lips were moving. She was singing to herself. Or maybe whispering?

Bellamy moved closer to Clarke, trying to hear her voice. Instead, he accidentally stepped on a pile of dried leaves, creating a loud crunch. The woman immediately jumped up in panic and flung her body around, holding her knife to his neck. Her eyes were wild and her posture threatening, breathing heavily. She had never looked more beautiful and alive. The adrenaline in her system still wasn't gone when she first spoke.

"You scared me." She dropped her stance and sat back down by the tree again.

"Are you on watch tonight? You weren't assigned that position. I need you awake tomorrow." He leaned on a tree opposite her, trying to forget the fact that she could have almost killed him moments ago.

Clarke began playing with the knife again, twirling it around her fingers. "Glass needed someone to cover her shift. And I couldn't sleep anyways so I volunteered."

"Is she alright?"

"Her period is out of whack. Ever since we landed all the girls have had irregular schedules, so it's impossible to plan around them. And the fact that we don't have the medicine to numb the constant pain makes it worse. When I found Glass it got so bad she was on the verge of passing out."

Bellamy nodded, trying to sympathize as much as possible. Girls had to go through hell and back. When Octavia first got her period she couldn't get off the bed and had to be lifted into her hiding spot when the Guard came for an inspection.

"You should probably get to bed," she continued. "We can't both be tired tomorrow."

Bellamy shifted slightly and asked, "Do you uh. Want some company?" He knew the answer but asked anyway.

There was a silence between the two until she smiled sadly and spoke, "I'm sorry. I kinda want to be alone right now."

Bellamy nodded at the ground and began to leave, but then turned to shout over the wind, "You better be awake tomorrow. Just because you're on watch now doesn't mean I'll let you work less tomorrow. Make sure we don't get attacked by grounders. Or worse. Miller."

His grin met her faint one.

"Roger that."

The weight on his shoulders was still there when he walked to his tent, and his eyes were barely open, but him being straight with Clarke made his mind a little less fuzzy. Even though the wind was howling in his ear and was pushing against him, he felt a strange balance.


	2. Chapter 2

"_I don't want to be near anyone I actually like."_

()

Bellamy raised his eyebrows and held back a small smile. Always nice to know where he stood with Clarke. Their relationship wasn't a friendship, it was a power play.

"Be ready to leave in ten."

()

Bellamy was ready to leave, with a bag filled with rations and a belt stocked with weapons. He took one last look at the camp that he had built from the ground up. The buzzing of the delinquents concentrating on their work made him proud. He glanced at he drop ship, where Octavia came walking out of, disgruntled. Her eyes locked with his and changed her expression to a blank one. Blood was thicker than water and the two had a bond so strong that Bellamy knew she understood what he was about to do. That didn't mean it didn't hurt though. Actions cut deeper than words sometimes.

()

"Jesus fuckin Christ," Bellamy silently complained to himself. "Why does she look so damn stressed out all the time?"

The two had been walking through the woods for a little under an hour, and neither had spoken to the other since their departure. Clarke was busy focusing on the map that she held so tightly and Bellamy followed behind her, sulking into a pool of his own sorrow.

"Fuck it," he decided. "This could be the last time I ever see a human."

So he opened up to her. A little. He allowed himself to smile when she tripped over tree stumps and offered her his water when she ran out of her own. He sang obnoxious songs over and over until they stuck in her head, making her flash an irritated smile. He tried to step on her shoelaces when we walked past her so she would have to retie them, and he showed Clarke the the pretty plants she was missing when she kept focusing on only the map. And when they decided to split up but stay within shouting distance, he put his hand on her back and slipped to the other side of her.

It was about as open as he could get to Clarke Griffen.

()

When Bellamy found the guns, he had hope for the first time since he saw Octavia on the dropship. For a moment he wasn't afraid. Pure glee spread through his face and he turned to look at Clarke. They were going to live. Thrive even.

()

When Clarke found out he was leaving the camp, she disagreed but didn't push it any further. Bellamy thought she would. He expected her to steal his rations so he would be forced to return to camp, or at the very least convince him to stay.

"This is what I wanted," he reminded himself, as he painted a target on the curtain in front of him. "The camp will live without me."

"Bellamy what are you doing?" Clarke rose her eyebrows in worry, confused as to why the man was hastily painting an 'X' with his fingertips dipped in oil.

"You have to learn how to shoot a gun."

"That's a complete waste of bullets."

Bellamy turned around and in all seriousness, said "Clarke. You are an essential asset to the camp. You need to be able to shoot a gun."

"I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

"Yeah? Well, don't get used to it."

Clarke fell silent as she handed Bellamy a gun. He was happy to be holding a weapon in his hands again. He felt in control, proud, and wanted to show Clarke how good of a shot he was. But when the first two bullets were duds, he held back his complaints and rolled his eyes instead.

"Try yours."

Clarke, holding a gun for the first time and trying to position it correctly, glanced at Bellamy, who had his mouth tightened, trying to hold in his laughter.

"I hate you." She lowered her weapon and shoulders in defeat, and Bellamy felt a pang of guilt at the sight.

"No, sorry, sorry, uh… try again." Bellamy crossed his arms before walking towards her. "Ok, just put the gun on- yeah like that. You got too much tension in your shoulders- don't freak out, a gun never killed anybody. Hold out your arm a little more to the right. Uh, my right. Jesus, Clarke, here!" Bellamy uncrossed his arms to guide Clarke, making adjustments to her stance. He noticed Clarke was holding her breath at his touch, but continued anyways. She needed to learn how to use these weapons. She needed to stay alive. He stood back to watch as he rested his hand on the small of her back. Bellamy wondered how someone so small could be so powerful. Her hair was thick and unbrushed, and her waist slender and-

"Holy shit," Bellamy screamed inside as Clarke lined up the shot. He jumped his hand away from her and shook his head in disbelief. He opened up the smallest amount possible and now he was facing the consequences. It shouldn't even matter that he would never see her again. The last thing Bellamy wanted was to start thinking about Clarke's waist.

()

After the gun fired, Clarke beamed at Bellamy, and Bellamy, without thinking, beamed right back. She rarely smiled but when she did it became infectious. They had the same twisted humor. Maybe it was their way of coping.

()

The delusions had worn off and a dead teenager laid in front of the two, who were recovering by leaning their backs on a tree. Bellamy had blood and tears dried to his cheeks, and bruises were beginning to form on Clarke's stomach. Bellamy failed to hold back his tears.

He cried for his mother and her undying love, for her body floating through space and time and black holes. He cried for Octavia and how he failed her. For the three hundred people he had killed and for the dead teenagers he could have saved. He cried because he didn't know what fresh hell tomorrow would bring, if he would be dead in less than 24 hours. He cried because if he died he would be happier. There was something inside that he could only express by sobbing into his own hands.

"I need you."

He needed her too. How beautiful is it that someone could make your heart beat so fast, when you don't want it to beat at all. It made him cry harder.

()

When they left camp they were reluctant allies.

But they returned as friends.


	3. Chapter 3

Clarke wished she was still in space. She wished she was floated with her dad.

"At least," she grumbled to herself, "It's cold in space."

A heat wave had hit the camp. Jasper's thermometer confirmed that the weather was at 126 degrees. There was no wind or breeze. The air was thick and still. Not ideal for a bunch of sweaty kids who had been living inside a cold block their entire lives. But none of this was really ideal.

Clarke, like everyone else at camp, was stripped down to almost nothing. All she wore was the bra given to her in the skybox and a pair of boxers taken from their dead. Her hair was pulled into a bun to get it off her neck, but Clarke just wanted to shave it all off and get it out of her way. The air was so humid it became hard to breathe and Clarke hated the feeling of her clothes sticking to her skin.

Kids were pouring into Clarkes tent. All sick from a week of dehydration. The drop ship was too hot to touch - let alone go inside, so the teenagers laid inside or around Clarke's tent for shade and nursing. Most of them had already passed out from the heat, and even the usually cold grass and earth was stinging their skin. Clarke was overwhelmed. These kids needed water.

Clarke started looking for Bellamy after the first kid starting having diarrhea. She heard that before the war, people with a lack of water died from diarrhea and it quickly became the number one killer for those in poverty. She swayed into his tent, every step a battle against the heat.

The girl looked down and almost smiled. Bellamy was in only his boxers, laying face down on the dirt ground in defeat.

"Who is it?" He mumbled without turning to see.

"Clarke."

"What the hell could you possibly need right now."

"I need to you to get up and help me get some more water into camp. We ran out again."

"Clarke, I honestly don't think I'm ever going to get up again."

"Bellamy- they're losing too much water. Their throats are too dry to speak. Six already have diarrhea."

That made Bellamy turn his head. "Fuck."

He stood up besides her and it was only then when she realized how little clothes they were both wearing.

As though he could read her mind, he muttered, "Don't get any ideas, Princess."

Clarke rolled her eyes. The heat apparently had not damaged Bellamy's stupid ass pride.

"As soon as this heat wave passes, we are moving in with the Ice Clan."

That made him roll his eyes.

{}

For the rest of the day, Clarke tried to ignore the freckles spread across Bellamy's skin, or the way his muscles moved when he carried two buckets of water on his shoulders. She tried to ignore the shape above his boxers, and his bare feet walking on rocks and carefully avoiding insects who were just minding their own business.

He tried to ignore her too. It was too hot outside to think about Clarke Griffen wearing only boxers and a bra. Far too hot outside.

{}

Once the water had been handed out and the sun began to set, the insane temperature slowly decreased. Clarke and Bellamy were standing by her tent, watching over a few of those who had not yet recovered.

"Another successful day, if you ask me," Bellamy said, his voice thick with sarcasm.

She smiled for just a moment but then it fell from her face.

"I hate doing this," she whispered softly.

"Me too."

He knew she was talking about leading the 100. That she hated the responsibility and the power thrown in front of her. But he couldn't help wonder if she was talking about something else too.


End file.
